A Surgeon's Incredible Life Journey
A Memoir
by
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I was to start working in Charleston on July 1, 1958. I, therefore, went to a library to find the location of West Virginia and Charleston, its capital. Then, I talked to one of the surgeons in Baltimore about Charleston. He thought I was talking about Charleston, South Carolina. That’s when I discovered there were two Charlestons—one in West Virginia and one in South Carolina. Someone gave me a map and highlighted the route to West Virginia. Before leaving, I said to one of the doctors, “Do West Virginians speak the same way people in Baltimore speak. Is the language the same, and will they understand my English?”
He said, “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble understanding them, and they won’t have any trouble understanding you.”
The time came for me to say goodbye to my friends, and around noon, my car was packed. I was ready to leave for West Virginia, having no idea what awaited me or the surprises life would have in store. I drove along Route 60, a road so curvy I felt I would meet myself as I rounded sharp curves. I drove slowly, for my 1954 Pontiac was old and unreliable. I had not slept the previous night because I had been on call. I was so sleepy I knew I couldn’t drive any longer. I was passing through a small town when I saw a small sign that read, “Room and Breakfast.” I stopped and went in and asked for a room. I told the person I had to leave early the next morning because I had to be in the hospital at eight o’clock. I said I was coming to West Virginia for training in Charleston General Hospital. The proprietors knew the hospital well as practically everybody in the state knew Charleston well. At first, the woman decided not to charge me for the room, but I insisted and paid her. That was my first contact with a West Virginian, and it made a good impression on me. Her warm generosity reminded me of the Old Country, my native Iran. Most people in Iran behave like that woman. Most would extend the same kind of courtesy as she did. People are people no matter where in the world they live.
The next morning, I left around three o’clock and began once more driving on Route 60, which led all the way into Charleston. It was around six o’clock when the darkness lifted. The first blush of dawn revealed the beautiful landscape around me. I arrived in an area where the road ran alongside a river. I stopped my car by the side of the road and looked around. It looked like Switzerland, and for an instant, I thought I was in Switzerland. For about fifteen minutes, I gazed at the breathtaking scene at a place known as Hawks Nest. The deep green foliage covered the hills and ravine far below, but I had a destination, so I again headed my Pontiac toward Charleston. .
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About the Book
His journey began in Iran, where he was born and learned the ways of an ancient civilization. As you travel with him, you will learn about his childhood, his parents, his teenage years and his years as a medical student in Iran. Arriving in a new country where people’s beliefs and customs were so unlike his own, he discovered that if you are sincere in your beliefs, no matter how different they may be, most people will respect you and your right to your beliefs.
Soon, he had two countries and fond memories of his youth in his native land and a deep gratitude for a country that has given him the opportunity to develop wonderful friendships. He has also learned that people are more alike than they are different and that everyone has a belief of some kind and that they want to be cared about and respected.
Having the perspective of a native Iranian and a patriotic American, he provides a view of his heritage, as well as the continuing story of his life here in the United States. He was a surgeon who placed a higher value on being a humane, caring person rather than power or money. He has viewed his patients and co-workers as family and treated them with enduring love and respect. Without exception, they have reciprocated.
As a physician, he knows laughter and hope is effective medicine, and he has supplied large doses of these in his stories. It is his desire that they give you enjoyment, as well as a more in-depth perception of a different culture and of the man who came from that culture. This is his small contribution to helping us all learn how to live in peace and harmony with one another.
About the Author
Dr. Ali H. Morad practiced general surgery at Jackson General Hospital in Ripley West Virgina for 37 years until his retirement in 2001. He was a Fellow of the American College of Surgeons. He was born in Teheran, Iran and journeyed to the United States more than forty years ago. He brought with him the teachings and traditions of his ancient culture. He practiced medicine with his heart and was dearly loved by his patients. He was a devoted and dedicated physician. He will always call Ripley his home and the people of Jackson County his family.